There and Back Again
by LadyofSpain
Summary: Jamie goes to find Horrocks. Claire runs to the stones, returning to Frank who's unwilling to take her back. Jamie, hot on her trail, sees her pass thru, and wishes to follow but is delayed by Dragoons searching the area for her. He finally passes to the future, looking for her. Out of his realm, he faces time in an insane asylum. Claire eventually finds him. Love triumphs.
1. Chapter 1: Stonewalled

There and Back Again

by Lady of Spain

Chapter 1: Stonewalled

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns Outlander

* * *

That stubborn spouse of mine had it in that clot-headed brain of his to seek out this man, Horrocks to supposedly clear his name. Caution was not one of Jamie's virtues, so it was up to me to knock some sense into his thick, Scottish skull.

I pulled on his boot, already seated in the stirrup, and peered up at him. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! You don't know a thing about this man. Jamie, he's a deserter, with no honor or even a shred of decency. What's to stop him from slitting your throat?"

He lowered his head and locked eyes with me. "I take your meanin', Sassenach, and it's the verra reason why I'm leavin' ye here under the watchful eyes o' young Willy."

"Rum nonsense. What help will that be to me when I'm widowed? Can he protect me as you have done?"

"I dinna plan to make ye a widow—leastwise, no yet."

Rupert snickered at that remark. Would no one take this situation seriously? With a roll of my eyes, I shot back, "Small comfort, that."

"Anaways, ye'll stay put 'til I come for ye, aye?"

I thrust out my hands, and rasped, "Perhaps you'd like to truss me up to prevent my larking about."

He grunted in that annoying way of his, then nodded to my jailer. "See to it, Willy." Turning to the others with him, he brayed, "Druit!"

They kicked at the flanks of their steeds and clip-clopped off to meet with the elusive deserter.

* * *

Glancing about at my surroundings, I noticed the outline of the standing stones in the distance. We were not that far from the vicinity. It seemed this would be my lucky day. If I could distract Willy somehow, I'd surely be able to cover the distance spit-spot. As it turned out, there was no need, as Willy was desperate to relieve himself, and trotted off into the thicket to escape my innocent eyes.

When I was certain he was out of range, I ran as fast as I could toward the stones. I had a perfectly good husband two centuries in the future. I was determined to return to Frank. _Stay put, indeed …_

* * *

We came opon the appointed place where we were to meet, but the man was nowhere to be found. We e'en searched the bushes and such, and the hills 'bout us, but nay.

Murtagh shook his heid. "Are ye for certain this is the place, Jamie?"

"Aye. I read the missive. I canna understand why he's no here."

"Weel, he's no here now, so's we best get back to Willy and yer wife afore somethin' befalls them."

"I dinna take yer meanin', Murtagh."

Rupert cut in. "And what might that mean? He means as he spotted some smoke from cook-fires o'er the next rise. Filthy redcoats, most likely. I imagine as Horrocks got a wind o' it as weel. Savin' his skin, he was, aye? They're no too friendly wi' deserters."

"Ah … we'll move fast then."

* * *

I pulled Donas up short, ye ken, as Willy was wavin' his arms 'bout like a daft bugger. Dismountin' from my charge, I felt fear fillin' the depths o' my chest.

"Where's Claire?"

"I … I … I swear to ye, Jamie. I just went a wee parts away into the brush to take me a piss, and when I returned. She was gone as a puff o' smoke."

"Gone? Ye were to keep a close eye on her, and now ye say ye've gone and lost her?"

"Aye. I'm sorry, but there it is."

I grabbed the sorry lad by his coat lapels, shakin' him. "Stars and stones, why did ye no chase after her?"

"I stayed here, hopin' as ye'd be back soon. Didna want ye should wonder where the both o' us had vanished."

 _Ifrinn … Leave a lad to do a man's job …_

Disgusted with Willy, I released him, and remountin' Donas, I gestured to my godfather. "Murtagh, ye'll be comin' wi' me. She canna be far."

* * *

Craigh na Dun loomed before me, and I felt almost giddy. I'd be with my Frank shortly, returning to my own era. As I walked toward the time portal, I heard voices shouting behind me. Turning to ascertain how close they were, my eyes beheld the worst possible scenario. Bloody hell, British soldiers, no doubt an appendage of Black Jack's dragoons. I made a mad dash at the rock, and poof, I was on the other side of the hill. The familiar highway and landscape greeted me. With a sigh of relief, I began walking to the town. I was home, well, maybe not London, but at least as far as Inverness.

* * *

It wasna hard to follow Claire's trail. I surmised quick as ye please, as she was headin' straight to Craig na Dun, for what purpose I couldna puzzle out.

Murtagh was right in his assumption, as those cook-fires did belong to the redcoats. And there they were like a bluidy swarm o' bees, climbing the hill, chasin' after my reckless wife. But didna my own eyes deceive me, for Claire vanished afore their verra noses. One moment she was touchin' the stone, and the next, only the circlin' air remained. So, the legends were true? I couldna believe it, and yet, Murtagh and I were witnesses to the fact. I wanted to follow after her but the soldiers prevented my doin' so, mind.

My heart was breakin' in pieces at the thought of losin' mo nighean donn, and it was wi' a bit o' reluctance as I waited for the Sassenachs to finish searchin' the grounds for her.

They scoured the hill o'er and o'er. Christ—would they ne'er finish? Ye'd suppose it was wee nits they were lookin' for.

By and by, the filthy redcoats retreated back to their campsite. When I was sure they were truly gone, I handed Murtagh the reins to Donas.

He grabbed my shoulder, turnin' me 'round. "Jamie, ye're no thinkin' o' goin' thru' those stones, are ye?"

"Aye. I canna lose her now, Murtagh."

"But dinna ye see, Lad? She left o' her own free will."

"I expect it's so, but I'll give her the chance to come back to me. If she will or no, I havta find out for myself."

My gpdfather grunted, then muttered, "Womenfolk … there's nay understandin' them."

I patted the rump o' my beast, and peered at Murtagh. "Take care o' Donas for me, aye?"

"There's nay need to ask." Murtagh nodded, then said, "I wish ye luck, Jamie."

"Ah … thank ye, truly, Murtagh."

We embraced, and then I walked toward the stones, bent on findin' my love, my Claire.


	2. Chapter 2: Chaos Reigns

Chapter 2: Chaos Reigns

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns Outlander

 **A/N: FYI, I got an email from Diana Gabaldon from Goodreads. I was flabbergasted. I thought it was a hoax, but someone told me she occasionally does that. I'd written a review, complaining about Jamie and Claire leaving Scotland, and she explained why that had to happen. Well, I knew that. I just thought she could have stretched it out a little**.

* * *

My heart was beatin' a jig in my chest as I approached the fearful thin's, and a buzzin' filled my ears. When I touched the stone, I felt a tug on my body, and god o' mercy, I was on t'other side in a wee blink. Wi' my heid swimmin' at the sights afore my eyes, I walked forward all reely-wally and sick at my stomach.

There were strange, verra tall poles wi' black ropes stretched betwixt them, and people on the road, ridin' in carriages but wi' nay beasties to pull them along. What sorcery was this?

I trekked towards Inverness—or leastwise, where it ought, and by and by, a picture nailed to a post caught my attention. It was the verra likeness o' my Claire, offerin' money to anaone who could tell o' her whereabouts. I took down the paper and folded it, slippin' it into my sporran. I suppose I thought it would be wise to show it 'round so as someone might recognize her and point me in her direction.

Feelin' the urgency o' it all, I stopped people on the walkway along the storefronts. The first chap I asked was dressed in verra peculiar clothes. He gave me a funny look I expect, because o' the trappin's I was wearin'. I suppose a Highlander wi' a claymore a'danglin' by his side seemed peculiar to him as weel. Passin' the likeness afore his eyes, I asked, "Have ye seen this Lass?"

"Oh, aye. There are signs posted all over the town. Seems she disappeared with nary a trace." He pressed a finger to his mouth. "Hmn ... let's see now … she's gone missing for some months."

I lowered my heid so as to be at eye-level wi' the man. "But d'ye ken where she is now?"

"Sorry, Laddie. Don't know the woman. Just seen the photographs. Now, if you'll excuse me …"

And so it went all the day long. The sun was sinkin' behind the buildin's, and it became needful for me to find a place to bed down for the night.

In my travels, I got a keek o' a sign as read, Baird's Bed and Board, but I'd left it aways behind me, so I trekked on 'til I found a stable. The moon had risen in the sky, and the darkness descended like a thick blanket o' wool, and yet, it was bright as day in patches. The glow came from lamps atop poles. It didna look as there was fire in those globes, but they did give forth light as bright as the sun.

I lay down on a bed o' straw, and tho' my belly was empty and growlin', my eyes closed and I was asleep in nay time atall.

* * *

I walked directly to the police station after my dizziness passed. A kind passerby had noticed me looking rather perturbed, and set me on the correct path. The constable in charge gave me a quizzical glance, and then asked, "Can I help ye, Lass?"

"Why, yes, you certainly may. Thank you, constable. My name is Claire Randall, and I believe my husband may have reported me missing."

"Aye, I remember Professor Randall. He haunted this place for weeks on end after your disappearance."

"I'm sure he'll be anxious to see me. Could you please call him and tell him of my whereabouts. I'll be staying at Baird's Bed and Board."

He nodded and walked over to a file cabinet, removed a folder, labeled with my name, no doubt, looking for Frank's phone number. With a glance over his shoulder, he said, "I'll take care of it immediately. He should be here in a few hours if everything goes according to plan."

"I'm very appreciative of your help." I smiled at the man and left the station.

* * *

While awaiting Frank, I decided to take a shower. Lorna was kind enough to lend me some shampoo, and a small comb. It's amazing how a midge of soap and water can invigorate one's body. I felt like a new woman afterward, albeit the same old dodgy clothing spoke a decidedly different story.

With bated breath, I heard the sound of footfalls outside my suite, and then a knock. My heart sped up, and I rushed to open the door.

Now, when I look back at that first meeting, I suppose I remembered him differently. He seemed shorter somehow, as compared to Jamie. Not quite as massive either, but no matter, here was my Frank on the doorstep.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, a carryall in one hand. I smiled at him, and said, "Frank … don't just stand there. Please, come in."

Removing his fedora, he slowly stepped inside. This was not how I imagined our reunion, and my stomach clenched into a tight knot. Where were my exuberant hugs and kisses? Instead, he seemed cold and distant.

He placed the carryall on the floor beside a nearby chair and sat down, hat in hand. I moved to the edge of the bed, facing him.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

Frank stared at me for a moment, and then intoned, "I'm waiting for an explanation of where you disappeared to all this time, and why you're wearing that ridiculous outfit. Have you taken up acting?"

I took a deep breath, and began, "No, I … Oh, never mind that. It's not important. The fact is, I'm acutely aware of how upset and confused you must have been when I vanished so mysteriously."

" _Upset_ in no way conveys the full effect of my emotional state for these past few months. I was distraught, helpless—filled with dread that something terrible had happened to you. And now, you come traipsing back, uninjured, and displaying a smile. A smile?"

"I assure you none of this was of my doing. I was being held against my will, and I only just managed to escape."

"You expect me to believe that you were a prisoner? You look well enough to me."

He huffed loudly, and his voice rose dramatically. "You have no idea what I endured while you were gone. I was at the police station day after day, hoping against hope that they would have some word, some clue to give them direction, so you could return to me. Dead, suffering from amnesia, kidnaped. It was even suggested that you'd run off with another man, perhaps someone you had cared for in the field hospital. Did you?"

"That's inconsequential."

"Is it? You forget I excelled at interrogation. I can tell when someone is lying to me."

"Are you saying I'm lying?"

"Yes … that's it then, isn't it? You've been with another man, while I sat in my London flat, worried for your safety."

"Frank—I'm back now. Can't you forgive me? You once said that you would understand if that circumstance ever arose."

I jerked as he slapped the arm of the chair. "That was during the war. There's no excuse for it now."

My eyes began to mist. "Are you saying, you'll not have me then?"

"I'm saying in no uncertain terms that a divorce is imperative. I'll not have tongues wagging at the university—the sidelong glances, the whispers behind my back—it would be utterly intolerable."

My tears stopped short of falling, and anger filled my bosom instead. "Of course, I should have known. The scandal of an unfaithful wife would ruin the chances of furthering your precious career. That adulterous shadow would be niggling at the small minds of those bloody professors—oh, yes, I see it all perfectly clear now. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, why in heaven's name was I stupid enough to come back here?"

"Why indeed."

As Frank donned his hat, he sarcastically blared, "You're nothing more than a common trollop. Well, I'll get my divorce, be certain of that. You are not going to sully the name of Randall."

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Get out!"

He sneered at me coldly. "I'll get out, gladly—out of your life and out of this sham of a marriage."

Pointing to the carryall, he said, "Your clothes are in that bag. I don't want any of those things reminding me of your treachery."

"I said, get out!"

Cocking an eyebrow, he replied, "I heard you the first time."

I looked around for something to throw at him as he headed toward the door, but there was nothing suitable, so I just glared at him with my hands at my hips. _Goodbye, Frank_.

* * *

I awoke wi' a start, as I heard rustlin' 'bout in one o' the stalls. Sittin' op a bit, I reached my arms out and tried to crawl forward so's I could sneak out wi'out bein' seen. Alas, it was to nay avail, for the man began to shout at me. "Oi! You there. What're you doing in my stable? I'll have the constable after you."

He grabbed op a pitchfork, and ran after me, barely missin' a prick to my arse. Scramblin to my feet, I fled the stable wi' the man still shoutin' curses, and skakin' the pitchfork in the air. Christ, I wasna a horse-thief. I only wished for a place to have a good lie-down for a night.

I continued on for the rest o' the morn, wi' ever'one starin' at me. Askin' 'bout Claire brought me queer _looks_ , but nay _luck_ atall. The bed and board sign was in my sights after a couple miles or so. I thought as maybe Claire wouldna sleep in a heap o' straw such as the likes o' me, but would go to an inn. Why did I no think o' that afore?

I stepped into the front room o' the inn, and a long counter met my eyes. Behind it, stood a plump grey-heided woman who greeted me kindly, and said she was Lorna Baird, and owned the place.

My belly was a'grunmblin' so as I showed her the picture. "Have ye seen this lass, Mistress Baird?

She adjusted her spectacles, raisin' them op a bit on the bridge o' her nose, and looked at the picture. "Oh, aye, that's Mrs. Randall."

"Och … there must be some mistake. This lass is a widow."

"It's no mistake, Lad. That is definitely Claire Randall. She was here only yesterday with her husband."

My heart sank at her words, but I soldiered on. "This day past, ye say?"

"Aye, but she's gone now. Set about finding a proper flat for herself. She and the mister had a dreadful, stonking row. Oh, my, I shouldn't be telling ye this, but ye look so distraught. Was she with ye at the theatre, then?"

"Theatre?'

"Ye're both actors, are ye not?"

"Ah … nay, but I expect as ye'd think as much by the trappin's I'm wearin'."

Stars and stones, the woman winked at me, brazen as ye please. "Then there's only one other explanation. Claire was missing ye see, for many months, and back here she came, and now yerself. I dare say, ye've both come traveling by way of Craigh na Dun."

I straightened op at the shock. "How came ye by this knowledge, aye?"

"Oh, well, some folks chalk it up to foolish superstition. I, myself, have known of people disappearing on that hill, and then reappearing quite mysteriously. It's a fact that those stones are full of the magic."

I couldna believe my ears, and at that revelation, the heat rose in my cheeks, but I thanked the Lord as someone had acquaintance wi' Claire, whether Fraser or Randall.

Standin' in front o' her like an imbecile wi' my mouth a'gapin', I could hear the sounds comin' from my belly.

Mistress Baird, peerin' at me, canted her heid, and cocked an eyebrow. I expect as she heard it as weel.

"When was the last time ye ate, Lad."

"Mornin' last."

"Well, then, I'll have one of the maids bring you 'round some food. I'll not have people say that Lorna Baird let a man in her midst die from want of sustenance."

I shook my heid. I wasna a beggar. "Nay, I canna let ye do that. I have the means to pay ye." I reached inside my sporran, but the woman stopped me.

"Yer money's no good here. This is my inn. I'll give ye of my hospitality if it suits me.

"Ye'll stay here the night as well. Ye look knackered. And I ken the reason, what with ye traveling up and down the streets of Inverness, searching for the lass."

"I thank ye, Mistress Baird, truly."

"Oh, tosh, It'll be my pleasure. I hope you find her. Mrs. Randall was most upset when she left here."

She leaned forward, and whispered, "I heard the word, divorce, being bandied about—more than once, in fact. Mind ye, I couldn't avoid hearing, even if I tried. The mister was yelling loud enough to raise the rafters, ye might say."

* * *

This was all too much for me. Claire was a marrit lass? She told me as her husband was no livin'. I scratched my heid at the wonder o' it all, but a maid came by and led me to a room with tables, chairs and such. She set op a meal for me which I ate hungrily. I was most grateful to Mistress Baird. When I finished ever' wee bit, the maid once agin showed me to a room where I could rest awhile.

The room was dark as we entered, but then the maid pushed op on a wee nubbin as sat opon the wall. All o' a sudden, the room lit op bright as day.

The woman left and I lay down on the most couthie bed I e'er did lie opon. After a short kip I went 'bout my business searchin' for Claire.


	3. Chapter 3: Out of the Frying Pan

Chapter 3: Out of the Frying Pan

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns Outlander

* * *

I bristled with rage for several minutes after Frank's departure. All these months, I had planned and schemed for my escape and for what—this? My poor Jamie must be beside himself, pondering the possibilities of why I left, or perhaps thinking that I somehow had been shanghaied by Black Jack and his lot. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what had I done to him? He'll spend his broken-hearted life wondering what he did to bring this about. He certainly didn't deserve this punishment, but I guess what's done is done. I'd have to live with my hasty decision.

The fleeting idea occurred to me that I might return to the stones, but knowing how the Scots would be doomed to destruction in two short years, I thought better of it. I'd find a job, a flat, and get on with it, alone.

After changing into more contemporary clothes, I left the inn, muttering in agitation. The hunt for a job was on.

* * *

I continued walkin' down the streets askin' ever'one I met if they kent where Claire might be. It didna do me a wee bit o' good. When the sun went down, I returned to the inn.

While I puttered 'bout the room, a bell kept ringin'. It seemed to come from a black thin' as had a round, rotary disc atop it with numbers and letters in each openin' o' the disc. I didna ken how to make the ringin' stop, but then it stopped o' a sudden all by itself. A few minutes later, there was a knock opon my door. It was the maid agin. This time she carried a bottle o' some liquid and a wee box in her hands, which she gave to me.

"I didn't think ye were in here, since you never picked up the phone. Anyway, Mrs. Baird had me bring ye some soap and shampoo for the shower."

"Shower?"

"Aye… Is there something wrong with it? Is it not warm enough?"

I had nay idea what the lass was on 'bout.

Wi' a roll o' her eyes, she produced a sigh, and saucily added, "If ye don't mind me sayin' so, ye are a strange one. Why didn't ye answer your phone? Is there something wrong with it as well, or are ye on the lam? Ye didn't register yer name and Mrs. Baird didn't seem to give a jot or tittle about it. Not that I care, and ye don't need to tell me. I don't want to know."

As soon as the words left her tongue, the ringin' noise started op agin. The lass went o'er to the black thin', lifted the top off o' it, and the sound o' the bell stopped. Puttin' the piece to her ear, she said, "Oh, aye, Mrs. Baird, I'm in room number three just like ye told me to. I'm going to check out the shower to see if it's working properly. I will … Ta."

She put the top back on the thin' and I followed as she swept into t'other room. Turnin' a metal wheel inside a big stall, she made a spurt o' water come rainin' down. To my astonishment, the water was warm, and it drained into a grate in the floor. Where'er did it go, I wondered? But nay mind, I now kent the meanin'… _ah, a shower._

The maid then walked o'er and pressed down opon a lever as was attached to a seat. She flipped the top piece op and I watched as more water swirled 'bout.

"Well, it seems everything's in working order, so I'll be on my way."

"I thank ye, Lass."

She winked at me verra brazenly. "Ye're welcome. Mister Anonymous."

* * *

I was optimistic in thinking it wouldn't take me long to find a job. A nurse is always in high demand, and with my exceptional background, I'd be a shoo-in, or so I thought. However, reality did not match my imagination. Unfortunately, it seemed the hospital I applied at had just recently filled two vacancies. It was the only bloody hospital for miles as well. The receptionist there was kind enough to suggest I apply at the building that housed the mentally infirm—not exactly my cuppa, but any port in a storm as they say.

The director, Clive Burton, perused the document holding my credentials and nodded. It states here that you served as a nurse during the war, which is very commendable, but what about your experience with patients having unbalanced minds?"

I tried to act confident of my abilities and peered straight into the wire-rimmed spectacles shielding his brown eyes. "I've cared for patients suffering from shell-shock if that qualifies."

He removed his eyeglasses, and replied, "All right, Mrs. Randall. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have even considered this application, but we are grossly understaffed at present. You'll attend two weeks of orientation, and then we'll see. You'll be on probation for the first three months."

"I suppose that's only fair."

"Can you start next week?"

"Oh, most assuredly."

I stood at once, and he rose from the chair behind his desk. "Good. Then we'll see you next Monday."

Shaking hands, I intoned, "Thank you, sir, you'll not regret this. I'll do my very best for these patients."

"I'm sure you will."

I nearly skipped down the street, and spotting a pub, called—of all things—The Gallopin' Goose, popped inside to celebrate. After all I'd been through, I was in dire need of a stiff drink.

As I stepped through the door, I caught a glimpse of a fair-haired man heading out the rear door. The bartender, a portly, ruddy-faced chap with a fringe of grey hair encircling a shiny, bald pate shouted to the other, "And this time, don't forget the tartar sauce."

He stared at me from behind the bar. "Sorry 'bout that. But what's fish and chips without the bloody tartar sauce, aye? Now, what'll it be, Lass?"

"Whiskey, if you please."

His eyebrows rose at the order, but he still delivered the shot of whiskey.

I laid down my money, and his eyebrows rose even further. "What's this?"

Looking down at the coins, I explained, "I assure you, they're old, but still legal tender."

"I don't doubt that, but ye'd get more for yer money if ye take it to the rare coin shop down the street aways."

"I tell ye what … the drink's on the house. Ye can exchange your money for new currency, and come back to see us again, aye?"

"Why, that's very kind of you, sir."

The man leaned forward over the counter, staring at me once more. "Ye know, ye look very familiar to me, but I can't quite place ye."

"Let me help you." I proffered my hand. "Claire Randall. I'm the woman who'd gone missing months ago."

"Ah, ha, I knew I'd seen that face before. The posters were plastered all over town." He clasped my hand, and brayed, "Emron Cuthbert, owner and chief bottle washer at the Gallopin' Goose. Glad to meet ye. So, what's yer tale?"

I lied to the man. "I was kidnapped."

"Great story to someday tell the grandchildren."

"I dare say."

Downing the whiskey in two quick gulps, I thanked the man again, and was on the way to the coin shop, leaving the proprietor with his mouth agape. I imagine he'd never beheld a woman who could handle her liquor in such a fashion before.

* * *

I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of currency I procured in exchange for my coins. It was definitely enough to rent a flat. The shop owner, I'm sure, was gratified as well since he said to me as I eased toward the exit, "Please come again, Lass. It was a pleasure doing business with ye."

I waved at the man, who was still gawking at the coins with eyes shining brightly.

* * *

I could barely sleep, the image of mo nighean donn floatin' 'bout in my heid. E'en the shower and the couthie bed couldna ease my mind. Tears filled my eyes as I pondered her loss. I had to find her.

When I took the steps down to the main room, I saw Mistress Baird talkin' to two men, dressed in blue coats and breeks, as had pistols strapped to their waists. I heard her say, "I haven't seen the man, constables."

Christ, were they wi' The Watch e'en in this time? I didna wait—but snuck quietly into the dinin' place, and out thru the back door.

* * *

After a few hours o' fruitless inquiries, my stomach started to rumblin' agin and so, I turned into a pub wi' a very peculiar name, The Gallopin' Goose. There was a young lad wi' fair hair tendin' the bar. I pulled out the picture and asked him, "Have ye seen this lass?"

He looked at the picture and shrugged. "Can't say as I have. So, can I help ye wi' somethin' else?"

"Aye. D'ye have any oatcakes?"

"No oatcakes, but I can heat ye up some scones if ye like."

I nodded and he went o'er to a wee metal kiln and placed two scones in it. A while later, he handed them to me wi' a dish o' clotted cream and a container o' strawberry conserves.

I put down some coins on the counter after eatin' them, and the lad got all red in the face. "I can't take that funny money."

"What?"

"I've never seen coins that look like that. Bloody hell, they're old as the hills."

"I expect they are. How can I pay ye then?"

He gestured toward the front of the pub. "There's a coin shop at the end of this street. The chap there will change them for ye. In the meantime, I'll take something of yers as collateral."

"Collateral, ye say."

"Aye, ye understand—for security. Then, ye'll be sure to come back and pay me."

"Ah … I see."

He pointed to my claymore. "Leave the sword here."

I hesitated, not wantin' to be separated from my weapon o' choice. "Nay, I'll leave ye my sgian dubh."

Droppin' it on the bar, I hurried outside and looking back o'er my shoulder, I saw the lad talkin' into one o' those black thin's as was in my room at the inn. Thinkin' nothin' o' it, I continued down the street to the shoppe.

* * *

When I emptied the coins from my sporran, the shopkeeper looked at me queer-like. "Why just yesterday, a lass came by with much the same."

My heart leapt in my chest, and I hastily pulled out the likeness and showed it to him. "Was this the lass?"

He bent o'er the picture, studyin' it. "How remarkable. Why yes—I'd say it's the very same woman."

"D'ye ken where she was off to then?"

"No, but she did say that she was going to see about renting a flat."

"A flat?"

"Ye know, a place to live."

"Ah … weel, I thank ye, sir."

"Anytime. And if ye happen upon any more of these coins, please come to me with them, aye?"

* * *

I ran to the pub to pay for the scones, and pick op my weapon. The barkeep counted out the money. Wi' the correct amount accounted for, he reached underneath and retrieved my collateral.

As I walked toward the door, two men all dressed in blue, entered the pub. Christ, they were the same two as I saw afore at Baird's Inn. They blocked the way, and one man, a tall one he was, said, "A word with ye, Lad. Ye're comin' with us."

With a shake o' my heid, I refused, "Nay, I canna go wi' ye. I must find someone I've been searchin' for."

"Ye can do that later. The chief inspector has some questions for ye."

One o' the men grabbed my shoulder. I wrenched away from him, fairly flingin' myself thru the door. T'other man—the tall one—got hold o' my kilt. I twisted back and drew my sword. He let go. Leastwise he had sense enuff to see it was more trouble than it was worth. But then as I ran, I saw t'other man speak into a wee box as was clipped to his belt. It made a strange buzzin' noise, a'cracklin' and poppin' like a lick o' flames on kindlin'.

In nay time atall, two more men appeared afore me. Brandishin' my claymore, I warned, "Stay back if ye dinna want yer guts spilled."

One o' them cocked his pistol and pointed it at my heid. "Au contraire, Laddie. This says otherwise, now drop yer weapon."

I let the sword slip to the ground and waited for them to come closer. When they converged on me, I elbowed the one in the face, and in so doin', knocked the pistol from his hand. I raised my knee to t'other, landin' a blow to his bollacks. He doubled o'er, but his partner recovered too soon and a tumult ensued.

Christ, the man was brawny as a bear and quick as well. I couldna reach my broadsword, nor my sgian dubh what wi' his whirlin' 'bout me. I traded a few blows wi' the man, but then the two from the Gallopin' Goose arrived and I kent as I was doon for. The tall man from the pub shoved his pistol into my face, and I did surrender. T'other man patted all o'er my body and relieved me o' my dirk and sgian dubh, then pulled my arms behind my back and clapped them in irons. What was I to do? I had to escape, but how?


	4. Chapter 4: An Insane Turn of Events

Chapter 4: An Insane Turn of Events

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to outlander.

* * *

Two o' the men rubbed their hands 'bout my body' searchin' for more weapons, I expect. Then they thrust me into one o' the horseless carriages and carted me away to a place wi' prison cells. The tallest man gave me a shove into one o' them, and told me, "The chief will be here to question ye shortly." Wi' a smirk on his face, he said, "Make yerself at home, Highlander."

The man returned a while later and escorted me to a room wi' a verra bright light shinin' above. He pressed me down into a chair at a table where another black-haired man wi' a wiry moustache sat, lookin' at me in a verra peculiar manner. I supposed he was the chief.

After a moment o' silence, the chief nodded to t'other man. "Take those cuffs off him, Glenn. He won't give us any more trouble." He turned his gaze to me. "Will ye now, Lad?"

"Nay… I just wanta get this questionin' doon so I can look for my missin' lassie."

Glenn unlocked the irons, and I rubbed at my wrists, as the chief asked, "This woman ye're looking for—she has a name?"

"Aye… it's Claire Fraser. Och…" The name nearly stuck in my craw. "I mean Randall."

"Hmn, I see. And what might your name be?"

I sat op straight. "James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser."

"And where do ye hail from?"

"What?"

"Where are ye from?"

"Ah… Lally Broch. I'm the rightful laird."

The chief folded his hands on the table. "That's fine… that's fine… except Lally Broch has long since fallen to ruins, so ye'll need to come up with a better story than that. Now, who are ye really?"

I leaned forward. "I told ye once. Did ye no hear me? D'ye need me to tell ye agin?"

He sat back in his chair. "I'm all ears."

Sighin' loudly, I started in repeatin' the same story, only this time, I added as I came thru the stones at Craigh na Dun.

I expect he didna believe me, for, wi' a roll o' his eyes, he said, "Maybe ye're in need of some convincing to tell the truth."

Clappin' his hands, he shouted, "Glenn, will ye come in here, please.

"I hate to resort to physical means, but unless you willingly disclose your true identity, I'll have Glenn persuade you to do just that. He has a special knack for getting the inmates to cough up the information we ask for."

* * *

Glenn opened the door and walked in. Nodding to him, the chief blurted, "See to it."

The irons were once more encirclin' my wrists, and afore I could blink, he had pounded his fist into my face, makin' my teeth rattle, and my nose bleed.

"Tell me yer name—yer real name not yer fairytale moniker."

"I told ye," I spat.

The chief jerked his head toward t'other man. "Convince him, Glenn. I haven't got all day."

He pummeled me agin and agin, but what could I do? I told the truth, yet the chief didna accept a word o' it.

The torture seemed to go on fore'er, and they kept on askin' the same questions o'er and o'er, mind. Finally, the chief said, "This is getting us nowhere. I'm calling in a shrink."

 _A shrink?_

* * *

A sigh-ky-a-tryst came and talked to me. He was understandin' and verra polite. He sat across from me and said, "So, I assume you are…" he looked down at a paper "… James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. That's quite a lot of names."

"Aye."

"My name is Doctor Prather, and I'm a psychiatrist. Do you know what that is?"

"Nay."

"It means that I am a healer that deals chiefly with the mind."

A bit of bluidy drool leaked from my mouth as I spoke. "Ah…"

The sigh-ky-a-tryst walked 'round to my chair, hunkered down in front o' me and winced as he touched my face, turnin' it this way and that. He huffed, then muttered, "I can't stand this. I want you to know that I do not approve of their method of interrogation."

Standin' op, he brayed, "Glenn, can you send my assistant in here with a first aid kit?"

"Anything you say, Doc."

"And one more thing. Are those cuffs really necessary? Please remove them."

Glenn shrugged, but he took the irons off my hands. "Your funeral."

His assistant was an older woman who proceeded to clean op the oozin' blood from the cuts on my face. She applied some wee bandages to the spots and then left.

Doctor Prather nodded, and remarked, "That's much better. Now, tell me about yourself."

"I told the man all o' that."

"Then you actually think you are the laird of Lally Broch."

"I dinna think as much, ken. For ye see, I am."

"All right, James… May I call you, James?"

"Aye."

"Let's see. Maybe we should try this another way. Where did you get the clothes you're wearing?"

"From the peg on the wall."

"Now we're making some progress. And where is that peg?"

"In my room at Castle Leoch."

"Hmn…" He scribbled somethin' down in a brown book.

"Can you tell me what year it is?"

"I dinna rightly ken. It was 1746 when I left there."

"Where is the "there" you speak of?"

"The stones at Craigh na Dun."

"Let me see if I have this all correct. You're telling me that you came through the stones from 1746, and here you are in 1946."

My mouth gaped open at that announcement. "Och—is it 1946 then?"

He shook his head op and down. "It is.

"Knowing that fact, would you care to amend your statement?"

"Nay, I AM Jamie Fraser, and I AM the laird o' Lally Broch, and I came through the stones at Craigh na Dun. And, it WAS 1746 two days past."

"All right. This woman you're searching for?"

"Claire… Randall, my wife."

"Does Mrs. Randall know you're looking for her?"

"I dinna expect so. Ye see, she came thru the stones first, but I couldna follow as the dragoons were swarmin' the hill like a colony o' bees."

Doctor Prather looked a bit confounded. To sort it out, I explained, "Aye… Cap'n Randall thinks her to be a spy for the Highlanders. So, I suppose he set the dragoons opon her. He'd been tryin' to puzzle out where she'd come from. I didna ken myself, 'til I saw her vanish right afore my verra eyes."

The healer rose from his seat. "Well, I guess that is all. I'll have you transferred to a safe place."

Lookin' op from my chair, I said, "I thank ye, sir."

He shook my hand. "It was my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fraser."

"And yerself as weel."

* * *

The first day of orientation was surprisingly interesting. I prided myself on being abreast of all the physical components of a person's wellbeing, but this was a plane that I had overlooked and found it absolutely mesmerizing. Studying its precepts was to me a delight rather than a chore, and I incorporated them easily into my store of medical facts.

After passing the written exam, I was ready to roll up my sleeves, so to speak. On the final day, I was given a tour of the facility.

As I was escorted down the hallway past the padded rooms, I was warned by the orderly, who pointed to the last door near the exit. "Ye best plug yer ears, Lass. That one can yell clear to the rooftop. Restless as a caged animal as well. Crazy Highlander!

"Sorry, I know we're not supposed to refer to the inmates that way, but Jesus, Mary, and Bride, that ginger is really off his trolley. Daft as a bedbug—beggin' yer pardon, lass."

 **Sixteen Days earlier:**

I went to the "safe place" that afternoon. The people as worked there were all dressed in white clothes. How did they keep them so clean I wondered? Leastwise they smiled at me when I stepped inside. My claymore and such were in a bag as my guards had brought along. A lad there, name o' Steven, took it from them, handed it o'er to a young lass and said as it would be stored somewhere for safe-keepin'.

Steven led me to a room wi' verra many beds. I expect as it was where I would be sleepin' t'night. He showed me a bed, and told me it was mine to have the use o' while I stayed here. Then, he gave me some peculiar clothes to wear. A grey sark and grey breeks wi' a string to cinch 'round the middle.

I asked the lad, "Where's the room as has my claymore and sgian dubh?"

He answered, "Ye don't need to know that, Mr. Fraser. No one will hurt ye in this place."

"Nay, ye dinna ken. I'm tryin' to tell ye as I must be on 'bout my business o' searchin' for my wife."

"When ye're better, we'll let ye venture outside for a bit. But for now, ye're not to leave the premises."

I began to feel a gnawin' in my gut. "Ye mean to say I'm a prisoner here?"

"Not so. We're here to help ye regain yer senses, ye might say."

"My senses? D'ye think as I'm daft, then?"

"Nobody said that. Ye're just disoriented, is all."

I was beginnin' to get verra irritated wi' Steven, and I'm certain as my face showed as much. "Nay, I have my wits 'bout me. Now, tell me where ye put my sword and thin's."

Steven stepped back a pace, and began to look all reely-wally. He gestured to some men as was passin' by. One o' them gave us a right good gander. "Need some help, Steven?"

"Yes, and be quick about it."

The men each took one o' my arms and tried to pull me down the hallway. I broke free, yellin', "Ye canna keep me here. I need to go find her."

The man who talked to Steven said, "Ye better get the doc down here pronto. Looks like we have a live one."

Steven then touched a red button opon the wall and a loud blarin' sounded.

More men arrived, grabbin' at me. I struggled for a few minutes, but then the sigh-ky-a-tryst walked toward me carryin' a wee cylinder full o' fluid, wi' a sharp spike at one end. He waited there while some others fought to put a coat 'round me. It had sleeves as wrapped in the back. I couldna move my torso, and when they fastened all the buckles and such, I was trussed op like a Christmas goose. Doctor Prather came close and stabbed me in the neck wi' the thin', and I suddenly got all woozy, and could barely stand on my feet. Christ, this was worse than the bluidy gaol.

* * *

How many days had passed, I couldna tell, as there was no window in this room. The walls were bare, and covered in somethin' akin to flax, and stuffed wi' down. There was a seat wi' water in it, like the one at the inn, and a cot, but nay other furnishin's.

A lass came into the room several times a day to make me swallow some funny wee beads, but I spit them out e'en when she clamped my nose shut wi' her fingers. Forbye, I didna ken what they were, and didna want to find out, mind ye. Another lass with freckles all bepottin' her face tried to feed me, but I spit that out as weel. If I starved myself, maybe they'd havta let me go, aye? But then I got so hungry, as my plan to escape came to naught.

Ever' now and then, a couple o' lads would remove the coat or exchange it for a clean one so's they could give me a bath, or help me to take a piss and move my bowels, but no 'til the healer came and stuck a needle in one free arm, makin' me feel all woozy agin.' I kent as that cylinder contained a powerful sleepin' potion, so I couldna struggle anamore.

* * *

My first week on the job, passed swiftly by, and I found the work enjoyable—different, yet enjoyable nonetheless. I made friends with someone named Sharon, a freckle-faced young lady with ash-blond hair and a perpetual smile. We ate lunch together and commiserated about the more difficult patients.

Sharon cut into her steak and kidney pie, lifting the fork to her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she put the utensil down and shook her head sadly. "I just don't think the lad will ever be able to lead a normal life. He very seldom eats, won't take his medicine, and talks incessantly about leaving. He gets so riled up, it's scary. They keep him in a padded room so he can't hurt himself. I feel sorry for him."

I sipped my tea. "My goodness, the poor man."

"Aye. Every morning when they publish the assignments, I cringe hoping he won't be one of mine. Lucky ye just started working here. They won't be sending ye down that hall for a while yet."

Blowing out a great puff of air, I murmured, "Lovely…" I wondered if I would be up to the task. It sounded rather daunting.


	5. Chapter 5: Sine Waves

Chapter 5: Sine Waves

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

"Awhile yet" arrived sooner than expected. The very next week I was asked to assist the ECT technician. An orderly and I walked down that lonely hall and procured a patient from one of the rooms. He was a burly chap, with a scraggly brown beard, a bald head and three missing teeth. He was corseted in a tattered, greying straightjacket.

This is Mr. Cuthburt. As an aside to me, he whispered, "We call him, Cussburt, because he's always yelling curses at us."

The man scowled. "Oi! And where the bluddy 'ell are ye takin' me this time, ye miserable bloke?"

The orderly kept his composure and proceeded to help the man into a wheelchair. "That's for us to know and for you to find out." Once he settled the man in the chair, he said, "That's the ticket. Now, come along, Mr. Cuthburt."

I'd never experienced an actual session of electroconvulsive therapy, but I heard enough about it before. It was a barbaric procedure, and truly a shocking blow to my feminine sensibilities.

It took five of us to get the patient on the table and strap him down. All the while, he was sputtering and shouting obscenities. After dosing the poor sod with atropine and a sedative, they applied conducting gel on either side of his temples and placed the electrodes. Then, a black, rubber airway was positioned in his mouth to prevent asphyxiation and biting of his tongue. It was my job to hold his mandible closed over the device to ensure that was avoided.

The technician turned a knob on the neuromodulation device, sending 800 milliamps of pure electrical sine wave through the wires and into the man's brain. In effect, it was devised to obliterate the areas of troubling thoughts or whatever and left the person with memory loss and amnesia, walking the halls like a proverbial zombie. The after effects lasted for three to four days, sometimes permanently. I imagine it jolly well did the job it was intended for, however horrid the outcome.

Some of the more unfortunate patients had weeks of these treatments, twice a week for months. I don't know how they could cope with it.

* * *

We settled Mr. Cuthburt back in his cell, and when I ventured out into the corridor, I caught a glimpse of Sharon, looking as if she was about to cry. Her uniform was spattered with bits of food.

"Sharon," I said, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Why, just look at me. He won't eat a bite. He spit it all over my clothes."

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. The beast!" I walked closer, chanced a peep in the sliding observation window above the door, and was paralyzed where I stood. It was Jamie. I'd know that titian mass of curls anywhere.

"Wait, I know that man." The words no sooner slipped off my tongue when I realized my blunder. I couldn't in good conscience let him languor here, not knowing why he was being treated this way. And if I helped him escape, suspicion would invariably fall on me. I immediately retracted my statement. "Oh, tosh, I'm mistaken. He resembles someone I'm acquainted with. Now that I've given him a closer look, I've noticed the eyes and nose are a bit different. Thank goodness, Lord and Lady Ashford would be devastated to have their only son locked up in an asylum. News of it would rock the circle of their society as well."

Rolling her eyes, she remarked, "I can just imagine." Then she placed her palms along her cheeks and formed a perfect "O" with her mouth in mock horror.

"Come on, Claire. Let's leave. This awful area gives me the willies."

I took one more peep into the small window just as Jamie looked up. Recognition lit up his blue eyes, and he sprang off the cot, shouting my name. It was all I could manage to tear myself away from the window, but I reluctantly hurried along with Sharon, his pitiful cries filling my ears.

I couldna believe my eyes. It was Claire; I was certain o' it. What was she doin' in this place? Did they think her touched as weel? So fast it was beatin' as my heart was threatenin' to jump from my chest. I began to yell for her, but she wasna at the wee window anamore. Cryin' out her name, I fought to get the bluidy jacket off, alas to nay avail.

My yellin' brought some men to the room, to stad me from my caterwaulin', I expect. They hoiked me op onto a wee dray as had wheels, and took me to another room. I didna like the looks o' it atall, forbye, I could smell a peculiar odor o' somethin' as was burnt.

My coat was removed a bit at a time, and my arms and legs strapped down to a table. I began to get scairt. What were they goin' to do to me? A lad stuck a needle into my arm, and put two circular discs on both sides o' my heid. They had long, black cords attached to a strange box. Then a black, curved tube was jammed into my mouth. A lass standin' behind the table forced my jaws closed o'er it, and what happened next, I couldna tell, as my whole body began to shake.

When the shakin' was nay more, I was taken to a white room. Where was I? I tried and tried, yet couldna remember my name or where I was. It was most disconcertin'. The man wi' me, name o' Steven, put a white jacket opon me. My arms were crossed, and the long sleeves tied behind my back. Why did I need to wear it?

He set me opon a cot. I felt tired and verra confused. Nothin' 'round me seemed familiar. I lay down hopin' as my thoughts would come clear.

After a good kip, Steven came back and brought wi' him a tray o' food. I still couldna remember how I came to be here, or who I was. That was to be my sorry state o' affairs for the rest o' the day, and the next.

I wasna hungry and shook my heid, leavin' the food on the tray. I just wanted to ken my name, and what was this strange place? I didna ask Steven 'bout it, mind. It was verra embarrassin' to admit as I didna e'en recall my own name.

That night, I wept such as I ne'er wept afore. Leastwise, I didna remember doin' so.

When I awoke the next morn, a bonny lass wi' eyes the color o' sherry in crystal, and hair as black as a raven's wing came to me. Glancin' op at her, I noticed tears streamin' down her cheeks.

* * *

The following morning, I talked to Sharon about her assignment for the day and traded one of my patients for Jamie. "I hated seeing you get so upset yesterday, so I'm offering to take that Fraser chap off your hands. I'm certain I can handle him."

Her eyes brightened at that remark. "Oh, would ye? Ye're an angel. Thank ye, Claire."

We exchanged papers containing pertinent information about the patient, and detailing the plan of care for each, and went on our way.

* * *

I hurriedly passed out the breakfast trays to the people on my list, leaving Jamie until last. Taking the keys from my pocket, I inserted the appropriate one into the lock, balancing the tray on one knee. With a push, the door opened, and I stepped inside. I walked across the room, lowering the tray to the floor.

Jamie looked up from his cot, his eyes dull, lifeless, and that's when I noticed the coin-shaped burn marks at his temples. _Oh, no… my poor Jamie, what have they done to you?_

I crouched before him, blinking back my tears.

Slowly, I touched his face, threading back the curls from his forehead, and kissed his cheek.

"Jamie, I'm here," I whispered.

His brow furrowed. "D'ye ken who I am then? Have ye seen me afore this day"

I nodded, trying not to cry. "Yes, mo cridhe. I'm Claire, your wife, and you're Jamie Fraser, my husband."

"Husband, ye say?"

"Yes. You don't remember do you?"

He shook his head sadly. "Nay, I canna remember anythin'."

"Why is that, d'ye suppose?"

I sat down beside him, "They did something to your brain, to blot out bad memories. They didn't realize that your delusions were in fact reality. But as a result, you have a memory loss of all the good as well. I'm sorry. Hopefully, in time you'll recall bits of your life, and you'll be able to fit the pieces together.

His lips began to tremble, and I threw my arms around his neck. "Oh, Jamie, I've got to get you out of here."

His head tipped back. "Will ye?"

With a smile, I answered, "I most certainly shall. As sure as my name is Claire Elizabeth Fraser."

Rising from the cot, I bent down and lifted the tray. Returning to his side, I lay the food on my lap and asked, "Will you eat something for me?"

He canted his head, his blue eyes now gazing at me intently. "Aye, but are ye truly my wife?"

"Yes, truly, now and forever."

"Good."

* * *

That initial meeting went quite well, despite the fact that my desire to kiss him gnawed at me unmercifully. Kissing would only leave both of us wanting more, and frustration inevitable. So, difficult as it proved to be, I did my best to keep things platonic at this point. My first priority was to hatch a plan to execute his escape. Cleverness being my middle name, I'd come up with a doozy.

First of all, I had to get an idea of how to extricate his belongings. Surely, his weapons and kilt, etcetera, would be under lock and key in the storage closet. I'd have to make friends with the chap in charge of those personal effects. I believe the man had an eye for me anyway, so it shouldn't prove too difficult for me to wheedle my way into that closet.

Secondly, how to get out an exit without setting off the bloody alarm? The next day, one of the patients gave me an idea. She might've been deemed mad by the psychiatrist, but that didn't rule out that she was highly intelligent! _Lucy, I could just kiss you…_


	6. Chapter 6: The Great Escape

Chapter 6: The Great Escape

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

Lucy was a real character. I wondered whether she actually suffered from a mental disturbance; she was definitely an intelligent individual. She'd recently been returned to the facility after escaping. It seems she had escaped over half a dozen times. The escape artist was eventually caught each and every time, but how on earth did she do it in the first place? I was bound and determined to find out.

I brought her soap and towels for her shower and innocently said, "Welcome back, Lucy. How was your trip?"

"Not long enough."

"I'm curious. However do you manage it? Doesn't it set off the alarms?"

She canted her head and placed one hand on her hip. "What a stupid question. Of course, it does. But if ye set off more than one, who's to say which door ye used, aye?"

Lucy suddenly appeared very nervous. "Oh, don't breathe a word of it to Prissy Prather. I like to keep him guessing, ye see."

Touching her shoulder, I remarked, "Your secret's safe with me."

Looking down at her fingers, she asked, "Say, do ye think ye could slip me a nail file?"

"You know the rules, Lucy. I can bring you one, but I'll have to remain with you while you're using it."

"Such a trusting soul, ye are."

"Just want to hang onto this job as long as possible. I have a bad habit—I like to eat."

"That goes for me as well, but not the pig-slop they serve ye here."

"You've got a point."

* * *

The woman had more than a point. She'd given me an idea for getting Jamie out of here, and a brilliant one, at that. Fingers crossed.

Lucy planted the seed, and I cultivated, pruned and tweaked it. That idea would flower into a great escape, or so I hoped.

I visited Jamie with every opportunity at my disposal, in addition to my assigned tasks that day.

* * *

The next morning, the straight jacket had been removed. I didn't quite grasp if that was a good omen or not. He obviously was no longer combative, but at what cost?

Accustomed to witnessing Jamie's exuberance, and then to see him in this docile state was unnerving to say the least. I prayed he would snap out of this haze soon.

With every encounter, I would have to introduce myself, but then his eyes lighting up at the revelation was almost worth it.

I held his hand as I said, "Yesterday, I told you that I would take you away from this place. Do you remember?"

"Nay, I'm sorry for that, Lass." His eyes began to mist.

Patting his hand, I murmured, "Jamie … it's quite all right. I just wanted to let you know it may take me a few days to sort it out. I do have a plan though."

He nodded. "Ah … where will ye take me then?"

"To my flat."

"Flat?"

"Oh, bother, I forget that you're not from this era. Yes, flat—my home as it were."

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat. "You know, you used to call me, Sassenach."

"Och … are ye English then?"

"To the bone, yet that didn't stop us loving each other."

"Sassenach," he whispered, "How did I come to be here?"

"Blast, how shall I start?" I took a deep breath and soldiered on. "I came through the stones, and I suppose you followed me, although I can't imagine why… yes I do. You love me just as much as I love you."

His blue eyes drilled into mine. "How d'ye mean, came thru' the stones?"

"Bloody hell, I knew this was coming. There is a circle of standing stones on the outskirts of Inverness called, Craigh na Dun. I don't understand how it works, only that indeed, it does. We slipped through them in 1746, and it is now 1946."

Those eyes widened in unbelief. "And ye say as they think _I'm_ daft?"

"Very funny, you're a regular Bob Hope, you are. Laugh all you want; I suppose it does sound far-fetched, but it's nonetheless true."

A knock sounded at the door and a face appeared in the observation window. Opening the door, I found an orderly standing there, his face all flushed. "Come away, quick-like, Lass. They need ye on Canterbury Hall. One of yer patients is getting' a might hysterical."

"I'll be right there."

After planting a kiss on his cheek, I told Jamie, "Oh, by the way. I won't be able to visit tomorrow. I have some things to do, but I'll come back later today. I promise."

"Good."

* * *

It was Lucy. I should have known as much. I got her calmed down, and without a session in a padded room, I might add. Then I started contemplating the steps needed to implement my plan.

I went about the next day shopping for clothes that Jamie could wear, then packed them into a box. Under cover of darkness, I crept back to the facility. I hid the cardboard container behind some shrubbery, a little distance from the exit at the end of Dante Hall, right where Jamie was housed.

The second thing I needed was to recover Jamie's belongings. So, the next day, I went to the storage closet where Duncan McGuire, alias, _The Dunce_ , kept watch. Only, he wasn't acting quite dunce-like today.

His eyes lit up like a neon sign when he saw me. Time to lay on the charm. "Duncan," I said with enthusiasm. "The very chap I wanted to see."

He leaned forward toward the cage opening. "What brings ye here, Lass?"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Fraser's aunt and uncle are here to retrieve his things. May I pick them up?"

Duncan rubbed his chin. "I'd like to oblige ye, Claire, but I'm required to see the official belongings list from the director's office."

"Bloody hell, I forgot about that. You mean to tell me I must trek all the way back to the office to get it? Why didn't he remind me before sending me on this wild goose chase? And what shall I tell the family? They've waited a half an hour already. I don't suppose you can go for me, can you? My feet would appreciate it. They've been aching all day."

Hanging his head, Duncan muttered, "Sorry, I mustn't leave my post."

"Oh, blast. I'll have to trudge all the way across the field to the office again, then return to Dante Hall for Mr. Fraser's signature. The whole premise is totally ludicrous. He's not even in his right mind. However can he legally sign the list, especially after having a shock treatment? It's pure rum nonsense." I huffed loudly for his benefit.

"I'll not argue with ye there, but rules is rules."

I looked at him, attempting to appear pitiful. "Duncan, please, can't you make an exception just this once … for me? I won't tell anyone that you bent the rules."

"Och … ye wore me down, Claire. I'll open the door for ye. Fraser's belongings are on the second shelf on the right, against the wall."

"Thank you, Duncan. My feet thank you as well. I'll have Mr. Fraser sign the paperwork tomorrow."

* * *

I found his belongings easily enough, but getting it to my locker was another matter entirely. Going into the utility room, I nicked a pillowcase, and crammed the bag into it, laying a sheet across the top to camouflage the tip of the broadsword which was sticking out the opening. Then, carrying the _bag of laundry_ down the hallways caused little if any notice among the staff.

When the coast was clear, I stepped into the nurse' lounge and placed it in my locker. Luckily there was no one inside the room to witness my suspicious-looking actions.

At change of shift, I waited until the rest of my co-workers left, then took my trench coat and bag out of my locker and into the loo, locking the door.

Making a loop from the strings on the bag, I passed one arm through it and donned my coat, essentially hiding the contraband from curious eyes. I walked out of the building with no one the wiser.

It was a smight difficult to trek the few blocks home. The bag was heavy, Jamie's broadsword being the primary culprit. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, a sledgehammer couldn't be any heavier. It was a wonder that Jamie could wield the damn thing. The weight of it alone could inflict serious damage to a body.

The bonny lass wi' the black heid o' curls told me as she was my wife. I couldna remember much, so I suppose it musta been true. Leastways, why would she lie 'bout it? Anaways, she said she was gonta take me away from this place, wife or no, and for that I was verra grateful. I hadna a single friend here, or I didna think so in my sorry state, ken?

When she told me as she wouldna see me the next morn, I felt as if my heart stuttered and stopped, so I kent as I musta loved her sorely in days past.

* * *

D-Day. I opened the first exit door on Browning Hall after arriving in the morning. Scurrying away, I mixed in with the first responders to the alarm. Two of the men rushed outside and searched the grounds for the runaway, and came back perplexed. One of them stated, "Sorry, folks. We didn't find anyone out there."

The director instructed us to check all the rooms. We all scattered to our respective assignments and reported our findings. All the patients were present and accounted for. Of course they were.

Letting a half hour pass, I pushed open another exit, and we all repeated the process. I next trifled with the door to Dante Hall, then hurried back inside of his room. The alarm blared, and I made sure that some staff members witnessed me talking to Jamie. I stood and popped my head out the door.

Acting irritated, I hissed, "Has anyone gone missing this time?"

The director shook his head. "I don't understand it. No one has gone, and yet the alarms keep going off."

I think it was Steven who complained, "D'ye suppose the alarm system has gone wonky?"

"That is a distinct possibility. I'll call the security company and have them check it out."

"Pardon me for saying as much, sir, but good, because we're getting mighty knackered with all the counting of patients and running every time a bloody horn squawks. Blimey, it's nerve-wracking, is what it is."

The director nodded. "I agree with you, Steven. I'll see to it immediately. I can't have our schedules interrupted at every sounding of an alarm. Not to mention the agitating effect it's having on the patients."

After successfully tripping more alarms during the day, I was ready for the _piece de resitance._ My shift was ended, I punched my time card and hurried to Jamie's cell. I looked around, and no one was in sight. I unlocked the door and left it unlocked. I took Jamie by the hand and walked him out the exit. The horn sounded, but the staff had become lax and ignored it as I had hoped.

An hour would pass before anyone noticed that his room was empty.

Helping him into the clothes I had secreted, I flattened the box and carried it with me. Then, I led him away from this awful facility and we traveled unmolested to my flat.


	7. Chapter 7: Decisions

Chapter 7: Decisions

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander.

* * *

Jamie picked at his food. Looking up at me, he simply said, "Claire …"

"Hmn …"

"Why is it, d'ye think as I canna remember anathin'?"

"I explained it to you once before, but I imagine you've forgotten. Put your fingers at your temples. Can you feel the little coin-shaped scabs?"

"Aye. What are they?"

"They are burns from a treatment you received."

"Burns?"

I sighed, feeling like a monster. My era was no less barbaric than his. "Yes. They put you in a room, Jamie. They strapped you down and placed two small discs on either side of your head. Then electricity was run through them. It stripped your memory clean."

"Elek-tris-i-tee …"

"How can I explain? You've seen lightning in the sky on our way here last night, yes?"

"Ah …"

"Electricity is like lightning, only man has learned how to control it."

He shook his head. Seems as I have a wee bit o' learnin' to do."

"Don't worry about it for now. Just relax and enjoy your meal."

* * *

Jamie stood there awkwardly, staring at the bed. "Is this where I'm to sleep?"

"Why, yes, of course."

"And ye'll sleep where?"

"I'll sleep with you in the same bed. It's all right, Jamie. I told you already. We are married."

He suddenly plopped down onto the edge of the mattress and cried. It was pitiful to see, but I understood. I held him in my arms, allowing him to weep.

In the morning, he awoke with a start, nearly tumbling from the bed. "Och … I didna mean to compromise yer reputation, Lass. I'm so verra sorry. I dinna ken how I came to be in this bed."

"I brought you here. I'm Sassenach … Claire, your wife."

"So ye said, but I canna be certain o' it."

Extending my palm out toward him, I remarked, "Wait. I've got the very thing."

I shot out of bed, and went to the dresser, taking out a small, black, velvet box. I removed the ring he'd given me and slipped it on my finger.

Jamie sat up and turned his back to me as I hopped out of bed, so I walked around to the other side. Crouching down, I lifted my hand to his eye-level. "Do you recognize this?"

His face contorted as he strained to think. "That was a key?"

"Yes, you had it made into a wedding band, and gave it to me on the day we exchanged our vows."

Those blue eyes came alive with the flash of a memory. "It's the key to Lally Broch?"

"Yes, Jamie."

"Weel, then, I suppose I musta marrit ye as ye said. I wouldna give that key to nary a lass, lest I was marrit to her, I expect."

"That's right." I looked at the clock on my nightstand. "Oh, blast, I have to get dressed for work."

"D'ye havta go?"

"I have to, Jamie. It'll look suspicious if I don't show today. I can't have them thinking I helped you escape."

I quickly dressed, then gestured for Jamie to follow me. Opening the refrigerator, I pointed to the shelves. "There's food in here. Just help yourself. The cupboards are stocked as well."

He glanced around, appearing to understand. "Aye … thank ye, Claire."

"Oh, wait, one more thing before I leave. "Under no circumstances are you to poke your head outside this door, nor open it to anyone."

"Why?"

"Believe me, the constabulary will have the bobbies looking under every rock for an escaped lunatic. If they're successful, it'll be back with you to the facility in less than a heartbeat. Neither of us wants that."

"I take yer meanin'."

"Please, Jamie, do this one thing for me."

I grabbed some notepaper from a drawer and scribbled a quick sign. It read, "Jamie, don't leave. They'll take you back to that little, white room if you do."

Securing it to the door with a piece of tape, I instructed, "Do you understand why this is vital?"

"Aye."

"All right. I'll be off then, shall I?"

With a kiss on his cheek, I said, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

* * *

I was verra glad to be doon wi' that place, but I still felt a bit strange 'round _this_ place. E'en tho' she showed me the ring as I remembered, I didna have ana memory o' our vows, mind. Ifrinn, why could I no remember anathin' 'cept this bluidy key? Did I live at Lally Broch in days past then?"

Och … it was nay use and made my heid throb tryin' to make sense o' itall.

* * *

I was called on the carpet at Clive Burton's office for leaving Jamie's isolation room unlocked. No surprise there. I feigned horror. "Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry. The alarm blared, and I suppose I got rattled and absentmindedly left it open."

The director glared at me, drumming a tattoo on the top of his desk with a lead pencil. "And as a consequence of your negligent behavior, Mr. Fraser is now out and about, mingling with the good folks of Inverness."

I covered my lips with my palm, then removing it, squealed, '"Oh, no, you mean he's escaped?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Well, I'm certain they'll find him. Chances are, a man wearing grey, hospital clothing would surely garner some notice. Don't you think?"

"I suppose you could be correct in that regard, but the fact remains that you, Mrs. Randall, were negligent in your duties, and are primarily responsible for his disappearance. I'll have to document this incident and place it in your personnel file. Up until this moment, your work has been exemplary. Don't make me regret hiring you."

"No, sir. You have my word. I'll be extra careful in the future."

"See that you are. That's all; you are dismissed."

"Thank you, Mr. Burton."

Nodding, I turned and vacated his office.

Well, that went over better than I envisioned. I half expected to get the sack there on the spot.

* * *

At lunch, Sharon told me, "Burton was mad as a hatter when he discovered Mr. Fraser had gone missing."

"I know. I can't believe I forgot to re-lock his door, but bloody hell, that alarm was screaming in my ears, and it just slipped my mind."

"At least you kept your job. That was the main concern. It's not like Mr. Fraser is a threat to anyone. He only wanted to get out of here and find his wife, or so he said."

"The poor man. I can't even imagine the suffering he's been exposed to."

Sharon left and I spotted Dr. Prather sitting down to eat. I sauntered over to his table. "Sorry to bother you, Dr. Prather, but I have a question I assume you can answer.

"I suppose by now you've heard that Mr. Fraser flew the coop."

He took a sip of his drink and then gave me his full attention. "Go on, then. Your question is?"

"Well, I'm very concerned about him. He's had a shock treatment, and I was wondering how he can regain his memory more quickly."

"Hmn … that's the ticket. In my years as a psychiatrist, I've found that if one finds himself in familiar surroundings, he is more likely to recover his mental faculties. So, when he returns, the memories will hopefully come flooding back. Mind you, if the troublesome ones return as well, he'll have to be subjected to additional electroconvulsive treatments."

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Prather. I understand completely."

"Anytime. Glad I could be of help."

* * *

I pondered that idea for the rest of the day. Familiar surroundings; yes, it made sense.

Up until I had found Jamie here, I had no desire to travel back to the past, but for his sake, I would gladly go.

It also occurred to me, that I had a greater use to the people there than in this den of unfortunate souls. My one regret would be leaving the place understaffed once again, but there was no other alternative. It had to be done; and the sooner, the better.

* * *

That evening at dinner, I asked, Jamie, "What do you remember?"

"Weel … I remember wearin' a verra tight, white sark wi' funny sleeves, and sleepin' in a room as was covered wi' squares o' fabric."

"That's all?"

"Nay, I remember as we walked out the door to this place. Ye told me yer name and we were marrit, and as I called ye Sassenach in days past."

"What about Castle Leoch?"

"Och … I dinna think so."

I tossed my head in frustration. "Bloody hell—what would you say if I brought you somewhere that was more familiar to you? Dr. Prather says that it may jar your memory."

"I think as that would be grand."

* * *

I wrote a letter of resignation that very night, determined to drop it by the asylum the next morning. When I completed my task, I found Jamie in the bedroom. He had the kilt and his other accouterments spread out upon the mattress, and looking over his belongings with a bewildering expression on his face.

He turned as he heard me enter the room. "Are ye certain these are mine?"

"Oh, yes, my Scotty. You never go anywhere without them. And tomorrow I'll see that you don them correctly, because we are going to Craigh na Dun before sun up."

"Why?"

"Think about it, Jamie. You don't belong here in this century, and I admit I no longer fit in here either. At first, I thought this was what I desired the most, but I see now that I was wrong. I love you, Jamie, and I loved our life as a married couple. We are a matched set, however we were brought together. We're of no use to anyone separate; just no good one without the other."

Jamie peered at me so wistfully. Holding his face in my hands, I broke into tears. "Oh, blast, don't look at me like that. You're wearing down my restraint. I can't …"

I willingly surrendered to my emotions. I brushed my lips against his, and he responded in kind. Once ignited, he couldn't stop, and needless to say, I was not about to deter him in this pursuit.

* * *

His blue eyes shining, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Will it always be as this wi' us, Sassenach?"

"I don't suppose I can really say always, because we've only been married a few months. But on the whole, I would say, yes."

"Good."

I winked at my sweet lover. "I'd say more than good—smashing!"

Never breaking eye contact, he whispered, "Sassenach …"

"What?"

He took a tress of my hair between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it. "I dinna think I've e'er seen another lass as bonny as ye are. I canna believe my good fortune as ye marrit me." Still holding the lock of hair gently, he murmured, "Mo nighean donn. It means …"

I put a finger to his lips. "My brown-haired lass. I know that phrase. You've called me that many times before."

"Ah, and yet it's still true, ken?"

"Is it?"

He pulled me to him and kissed me breathless. "Aye, true as e'er."

For the first time since we reunited, I saw him smile, a real toothy grin, and at that moment, I felt that everything would turn out right as rain.


	8. Chapter 8: A History Lesson

Chapter 8: A History Lesson

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

Before the alarm even went off, I had awakened and climbed out of bed. I wrote a note to the landlord saying I had to leave due to a family emergency with no plans to return. And that he could keep my belongings or whatever he chose to do with them. I hastily scribbled another to my friend, Sharon. I couldn't in good conscience leave without a farewell. In the letter, I encouraged her to visit my flat and show it to the landlord in the hopes that she might be able to procure some of my belongings. Along with it, I wrote a request that the director allow her to have my earnings.

I dressed in my plaid, wool skirt, stays, and tonnag which I kept as a souvenir of _olden_ times, then I woke up my Scotty.

"Time to travel, Jamie. I'll help you into your kilt and buckler. We have one stop on the way, a letter of resignation to drop on the asylum's doorstep, and a note for Sharon."

I thought about what the staff would say. I had a full paycheque awaiting me, but what use would paper money be in 1746? It was a shame I couldn't bequeath it to Sharon, but there was no way on earth for her to cash it unless Clive sanctioned my plea. If only I had planned better, I would have waited to get my pay. Then I could have given the cash away. I could have bought back the coins I had pawned as well. Hindsight really was 20/20. No matter, there was little time. And despite being penniless, we would still eat, since the Laird of Castle Leoch generously provided for its inhabitants.

* * *

After our little task was completed, we walked straight to Craigh na Dun.

As we made our way up the hill, Jamie glanced at the largest monolith. "Ah … this must be the place, aye?"

"Quite right. Just touch the face of that stone with your palms. I'll follow behind you."

As it happened, there was no need, for when the stone began to transport him, he reached out, grabbing my hand. Consequently, I went through like a boxcar on a locomotive—tickety-boo.

* * *

We lay on that hill, staring up at the sky while we gathered our wits about us. My Scotty turned his head to face me, asking, "How d'ye ken as we've gone back in time?"

"Look around you, Jamie. Do you notice any telephone poles or wires?"

He sat up suddenly. "Och … I dinna believe my eyes. It's true then? We've gone missing from 1946?"

"There's no doubt. You can believe it."

"Aye. I ken it to be so."

* * *

While trekking along the roadway, Jamie said, "Ye're certain as I've been here afore?"

"Very."

I looked ahead, toward the horizon, and pointed. "Look, can you see that great building?"

He nodded.

"That is Castle Leoch. We live there, within those walls. I have a job as a healer, and you work with the animals, and on excursions with the other men."

* * *

When we entered the courtyard, we were greeted with loud shouts and pats on our shoulders. Murtagh came barreling out of the stable to see about the kerfuffle. Upon seeing us, his eyes widened, and he ran, breathless, standing before Jamie. "You've come back, I see, aye? And brought yer lass wi' ye."

"Yes, indeed. You might say it was a bloody miracle that we happened upon each other."

With a look at Jamie, he remarked, "Dinna fash, Jamie, nary a word passed my lips 'bout yer travels. I took good care o' Donas as weel, ken?"

Jamie just nodded, appearing perplexed. Murtagh shot him an odd look, and asked, "Are ye all right, Lad?"

He then glanced at me. I jumped in at that point. "He's not. I'll explain it to you later on. We need to get our bearings—first and foremost."

As we walked on, Jamie said, "Do I know that man?"

"That's Murtagh, your godfather."

"Ah …"

"You'd better let me do most of the talking for you until your mind clears. Even if we told them the truth, they'd think it all rum nonsense. That, or we'd both lost our minds."

"I see the sense in what ye say."

* * *

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! No sooner had we entered the castle gate than we were accosted by the warchief, Dougal. "Weel, so the prodigal son returns, aye? And yer wayfarin' wife, I see."

His eyes were aflame, accusing me. "Yer surgery's been full since the day ye left, wi' nay regard for the sick and the feeble. Ye'd best getta healin' agin afore the place comes down wi' the plague."

I certainly didn't miss the encounters with Dougal nor his domineering ways. I thought of a suitable repartee to his ugly insinuation, but I was too bloody tired to cross swords with him. No matter, I'd immerse myself in my work and put the uncouth villain out of my mind.

Taking Jamie's hand in mine, I proceeded to lead him to our room. Mercifully, it remained just the way we left it. I watched my Scotty, hoping to see a glint of recognition in his eyes, but alas—nothing. How long would he fail to recognize the trappings of his own life? Maybe a good, stiff shock would snap him out of this stupor. This era had no shortage of those—being chased by The Watch, confrontations with Dougal, and how could I forget that odious man, Black Jack Randall—to name a few?

After freshening up, I told Jamie, "Tell Murtagh to come talk with me in the surgery as soon as possible. Tell him it's urgent."

We then went our separate ways—I to my tinctures and tonics, and Jamie to the stable.

* * *

The man named Murtagh was busy curryin' one of the beasts. T'other, a verra disagreeable one, mind, began shoutin' orders at me. "Brimstone is in need o' a new shoe, and Laird's fetlock could use a fresh poultice if it's nay too much trouble to ye!"

Murtagh interrupted the man's tirade. "Dinna pay Auld Alex ana mind, Lad. He's in one o' his moods this morn."

I took a quick keek 'bout the stalls, and Murtagh pointed to one. "Donas is o'er there, waitin' for ye."

 _Ah … so Donas is my horse then._

Rubbin' the animal's muzzle, I whispered, "D'ye remember me, Donas. I'm sorry as I dinna remember ye, tho'. Ye seem like a grand beastie."

I looked o'er my shoulder at my godfather. "Claire says she needs to speak to ye if ye please—in her surgery."

He dropped the handful o' straw he was holdin' to curry the horse and frowned. "Now? D'ye ken why?"

"Nay, only as it was important."

"Och … women—ever' bluidy thin' is so all-fired important." He clicked his tongue and muttered as he walked out o' the stable.

* * *

I had just finished putting a tin back on the shelf when Murtagh walked in. I brushed the clinging dust from the herbs on my apron. "So good of you to come, Murtagh."

The little man didn't crack a smile. "Jamie said ye have somethin' to discuss wi' me."

"Yes, indeed. It's imperative that you're aware of Jamie's condition."

"And what condition would that be?"

"Well, to explain it simply, he's lost his memory." I flicked a finger to my head.

"Jesus, Mary and Bride! How's that possible?"

"It's a long story. Suffice it to say, he doesn't remember you, or me, or even this place."

"I thought he looked a wee bit puzzled when first I caught sight o' ye."

"The main thing is, I'll need you to run interference for him."

With a wrinkle of his nose, he remarked, "Aye?"

"Oh, bother, it's an expression from a game played in the Americas. It means to help him out of situations, which in this case, may seem foreign to him. I won't allow him to be delegated to a prison for the criminally insane."

He thumped his index finger on top of my work table. "I promised his dear mother as I'd protect him from harm, and I'll no go back on my word now."

A sigh of relief passed my lips. "I'm so glad he has you to look out for him."

"He'd do the same for me."

True to his word, Murtagh sat beside us at dinner, aiding Jamie in identifying his kin. If any of the diners were curious about our conversation, they showed no notice of it.

* * *

That night, Jamie was unusually quiet. We sat beside each other at the edge of the mattress in silence. I still wasn't used to him acting that way. I missed his stories of adventure, exaggerated though they might be. Then finally, some words slipped from his tongue.

"Sassenach, will ye tell me 'bout us? I mean, how we came to be marrit and such."

"Well, you now know that I came from a different time, but it wasn't common knowledge when we met. Sorry to say, I had to hide it from the general public, and that included you most of all. The folks here are so superstitious. They would have erroneously accused me of witchcraft, and obviously, I didn't fancy being burned at the stake or tossed into a lake with a millstone strung about my neck."

"I don't suppose I'd hae let that happen."

"While that may be true, nonetheless, I couldn't risk that possibility. But as I was saying, after slipping through the stones, I had come upon that notorious dragoon, Captain Black Jack Randall. I was escaping his clutches, and I don't imagine I need to tell you what he had in mind for me, a lost, unchaperoned woman, wandering about in the woods.

"Murtagh somehow found me and brought me to a cabin where you and your comrades were hiding out. They were in the midst of discussing what to do about your circumstances. You had dislocated your shoulder in a skirmish with some English soldiers, and I put it right. I'd been a field nurse in a world war, and had had some experience in this sort of thing.

"After that encounter, we were off to Leoch, but on the way, we were ambushed and you'd gotten a bullet for your trouble. During my later ministrations to your injury, I confessed that my husband was not alive. It was true in the sense, that he was not yet born."

With an earnest look in those startling blue eyes, he asked, "But did we always love each other?"

"Not at first. I must admit, I did like you. You were so charming, and your innocent flirting quite captivated me. You have many fine qualities, not like that unscrupulous warchief, Dougal. He makes my flesh crawl. Why, even on our wedding night, he implied that he would be sampling my favors, wed or not—to his own nephew, I might add."

"Christ, the man has nay honor atall."

"To answer your question, some time elapsed and we grew fond of each other, but a situation arose in which Captain Randall interrogated me—and I use that term loosely. He held the specious supposition that I was a spy for the Highlanders. Dougal stepped in and demanded that we be married, so as to thwart Randall's plan to continue any further interrogation. If I was married to a Scotsman, he surmised that the captain would have no jurisdiction in the matter. I'd be under the protection of your Uncle Colum. That is not to say that Dougal hadn't other designs for his nephew's bride—the spavined weasel."

Squeezing Jamie's hand, I continued. "One day, I saw my chance to return to my previous husband. After all, I'd been married to Frank for seven years. Apparently, you witnessed my departure and followed me to my own time. And here we are, back where we started."

Then I reached out pulling the fabric of his sark away from his shoulder and gently touched the scar below his collarbone. Jamie quickly grabbed my hand, kissing my palm.

"But ye risked helpin' me to escape the place for the daft. And ye took me back to my time. Does that mean as ye love me then?"

I gently stroked his cheek. "Yes, Jamie. I suppose I do."

"Good." He gave me one of his funny winks, and said, straight-faced, "D'ye mind verra much, if I bed ye now?"

With a big smile, I said, "Not at all, Scotty. See to it."

Arms tightly about my shoulders, he tumbled with me back onto the mattress. Laughing, we commenced in another glorious union.


	9. Chapter 9: Recesses of the Mind

Chapter 9: Recesses of the Mind

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

The next day before we left the warmth of our bed, Jamie continued with his inquiries. Pulling the sark over his head, he asked, "How is it as I wasna marrit afore we met?"

I climbed out of bed and turned my back to him so he could lace my stays. "Oh, that—you had a price on your head. You'd escaped from prison several years ago, and Black Jack claimed that you'd killed one of his men in the escape attempt. It's utter balderdash of course, but that fact precluded thoughts of marriage to any eligible young woman, as you can imagine. Murtagh tells me that you were so sick and weak at the time. It stands to reason that you couldn't have lifted a pistol—had you even had one in your possession I might add—let alone fired one.

"The day I left, you were on the way to meet with a deserter by the name of Horrocks who witnessed the culprit in the very act of pulling the trigger. He could've cleared your name. That, my Scotty, was the occasion for my flight to the stones."

Stepping into my wool skirt, I blathered on. "You foolishly forbad me to go with you, leaving me in the care of young Willie. I could see how close we were to the standing stones, and when my warden trotted off to the bushes to answer nature's call, I saw my chance and took it.

"I suppose you returned sooner than I expected and retraced my steps. Then seeing me slip through one of the monoliths, followed after."

Jamie buttoned up his breeks and with a look of confusion, said, "But I dinna ken why? Why did ye leave me?"

 _Oh, bother_. "Jamie, I was returning to my former husband. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I was married to Frank, long before I met you—for seven years, in fact. I didn't realize at the time, that he's washed his hands of me. He couldn't forgive me, and didn't want me anymore."

With eyes widened in surprise, he said. "Och … now _that,_ I dinna ken atall."

Tossing my head, I remarked, "That's neither here nor there. Suffice it to say, it happened. Now, I have to get the surgery ready for my patients, and you, my Scotty, have to ride with your kin to steal a few heads of cattle."

His eyebrows rose clear to his hairline. "Ye mean to tell me as we steal the property o' another clan?"

I ran a brush quickly through my hair and pinned it up. "I most certainly do. And on your travels be on the lookout for _The Watch_."

"What's that as ye just said, _The Watch_?"

"They're brigands, masquerading as the guardians of the clans. They're still after the reward for the capture of Red Jamie."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. So be careful."

I stopped, halfway out the door, and cautioned, "Oh… and beware of Dougal, for pity's sake."

"What? Why should I be worrit 'bout Dougal. Christ, he's my uncle, Sassenach."

With an exasperated sigh, I explained, "He's next in line for the Lairdship, but you seem to be favored. He'd love to be rid of you, regardless of your kinship."

Jamie nodded and followed me down the staircase.

* * *

Sassenach was correct in assumin' we were out to steal cattle, o' the MacDonald clan to be exact. It was a dishonorable act, and if I participated in days past, I felt verra ashamed. What kind o' person would stoop to take another man's property?

Dougal didna seem to mind much, ye ken. He was happy to do it.

Murtagh stayed by my side, explainin' what to do, and where to go, but my conscience gnawed at my guts. I dismounted Donas, steppin' back aways from my godfather, I was reluctant to help them in such an unseemly task.

Murtagh yelled down from his animal. "What're ye doin' Lad? Ye'll just bring trouble opon yerself."

Dougal strode op—right op to the tip o' my nose. "Aye, it's here as we speak. Are ye too good to join us? Did ye pick op scruples whilst gone?"

"Nay … I just dinna think as it's befitten' a Fraser or a MacKenzie to roam 'bout thievin' from t'other clans."

"Is that so?"

"Aye."

Dougal got red in his face and whipped out his dirk, holdin' it to my throat. "Weel, I say different. Now, you get back op on yer horse, and round op the strays."

"I willna do it."

Murtagh leaned down from his saddle, and piped in, "Leave him be, Dougal. He's no in his right mind t'day."

"Ye best stay outta the way, Murtagh, if ye ken what's good for ye. This is betwixt me and my nephew here. Isna that so, Jamie?"

He pressed the blade closer to my gullet. "Maybe I should finish ye here, then Claire will be weel- shod o' ye, and I can make my intentions to her clear, ken? I'll be grindin' her corn whilst ye're lyin' 'neath the moss, makin the wigglers fat. What d'ye think o' that, Lad?"

I lifted my knee and jammed it right betwixt his legs. He doubled o'er and dropped the knife, but recovered more quickly than I'd supposed.

He came at me, his claymore drawn. I drew mine as weel. We started into battle, and Christ, the man was strong as an ox. I'd only parried a few strokes when the rest o' my kin pulled us apart. My cousin, Rupert, shoved me toward Donas. I mounted the beast and galloped off. I waited at a nearby ridge 'til the rest arrived and rejoined them. We hadna gone far when a gang o' Highlanders were seen headin' our way. O' a sudden, I realized who they were. Aye, those notorious vigilantes, _The Watch_.

Turning Donas 'bout, I told Murtagh, "I'll hide out at Bryce's cabin for a bit."

"Jamie—d'ye ken where it's at?"

With a wink, I shouted, "Aye, it's on the banks o' the Ballachulish Creek."

I clicked my tongue and Donas sped to the creek. As I raced past the lads bringin' op the rear, I braved a quick keek at Dougal. The man had a wee smirk opon his lips.

* * *

My tote was filled to the brim, and I was making my way back, content with my successful gleaning of fresh herbs.

A thunderous sound of hooves preceded the arrival of the victorious raiders. They were followed by a small herd of cattle. I looked at the rustlers, searching for Jamie. He wasn't among the blasted lot. Lovely …

Rolling my eyes, I continued on to the surgery, and started the task of bundling my finds, and hanging them to dry from the rafters. As I was doing so, in walked Murtagh.

"Claire," he said, "I'm here to tell ye as Jamie isna with us. The bluidy _Watch_ came opon us and yer Jamie trotted off to Bryce's cabin. I expect he'll be showin' ye his muckle face by nightfall."

"Thank you, Murtagh. I can stop fretting about his disappearance now."

He stood there, silent after that comment.

"Is there something else?"

"Aye … he kent where the cabin was e'en tho' we hadna been there since ye returned."

"Hmn, perhaps his memories are beginning to emerge."

Rubbing his forehead, he said, "I expect so."

* * *

 _The Watch_ didna ride at night, and for that I was grateful. So, when darkness fell, I left the place, anxious to see Claire. Ifrinn … the miles seemed longer than afore. I spurred Donas on.

* * *

There was no mistaking the tread of his boots in the hallway outside of our room. The door swung open, and he dashed in, grabbing me about the waist and hoiking me up above his head. With a face-splitting grin, he said, "Sassenach, I remember. I remember ever'thin', our weddin' day, my travels to t'other time, and ye bringin' me home."

"I'm so glad. And, yes, Jamie, you are home. And this is my home as much as yours. I know that now. It was a painful lesson to learn, but there it is. I'm making you a promise that I'll never leave you again."

"Good."

Without preamble, his lips were immediately molded to mine, and the insistent kisses only broke for an instant with each succeeding assault. I could barely breathe.

"Jamie," I gasped. "Let me catch my breath."

"Och … there's nay time for breathin'. Let's to bed."

"Well, my Scotty, I …"

Once again, he pressed his lips to mine, as he lowered me to the mattress.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, but you're in a hurry!"

"Aye … ye're my wife and I wishta reacquaint myself with yer charms."

I straight-armed him, saying," At least take your boots off, and let me remove my stays."

He sat up abruptly, yanked off his boots, pitching them one after the other to the floor. Then his fingers deftly loosened the ties to the stays until it dropped past my hips and into Jamie's waiting hands. It slithered down my legs with his aid and got tossed onto a nearby chair. The rest of our clothes got peeled away quickly and then, well, I'm fairly certain you're aware of what followed.

Needless to say, my mate, the formerly reticent young man, was now back to his rambunctious, exuberant self.

This was the year of that sentinel event, the battle of Culloden. Despite the comfortable life we led, that fact persistently overshadowed our happiness. I was bound and determined to help Jamie avoid the awful massacre.


	10. Chapter 10: New Horizons

Chapter 10: New Horizons

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

 **A/N: To Logi, a guest here on this site. Thanks for all your reviews**.

* * *

One evening while lying quietly in bed, Jamie asked, "What is it, Sassenach? Ye're no keepin' secrets from me agin, are ye?"

Lifting my shoulders slightly off the mattress, I turned to him. "No, not as such. It's … well, do you remember me telling you about a great battle that will end the Scottish clans and culture?"

"Aye … so?"

"It pains me to say it, but it's right around the corner. The battle will take place in just a few months' time. Bonny Prince Charlie will rally his men, and send them forth to awaiting death, a bloody massacre."

"Och … I didna ken as it would be so soon."

"I'm so sorry. The fact of the matter is, if we stay here we'll face certain doom. To survive, it'd be best if we emigrated to another country—perhaps the American colonies?"

He took a strand of my hair in his fingers, and rubbing it between them, answered, "I canna discount as ye ken this to be true, so I expect we'll be goin', aye?"

* * *

Murtagh passed me his flask o' whiskey, and scratched his heid. "And ye believe the lass?"

I took a quick swig, and wiped my mouth. "Aye, ye saw for yerself as she's from another time. I was there, wi' her, Murtagh, and there's nay denyin' it."

He huffed. "Weel then, I suppose I'll be leavin' wi' ye. I canna protect ye if ye're so far away, ye ken."

He grinned widely and ruffled my hair. "Forbye, I always wondered 'bout the colonies. Maybe this is destiny callin' to me."

"Maybe."

* * *

Angus pooh-poohed the notion of traveling from Scotland. "Are ye daft, Lass? Why would I wanta take op roots and move to the colonies? It makes nay sense."

"Oh, bloody hell, I'm trying to save your worthless hide, but I see it's useless."

Rupert was bent over, laughing. "When Prince Charlie is back on his rightful throne, I'll see as ye get my missive."

"Laugh all you want, Rupert. I tell you, we need to leave and promptly."

"I'll no stop ye, but Angus and I will die on this land."

 _Yes, you will_.

Jamie grabbed my hand. "Come along, Sassenach. They've made op their minds, and nothin' we can say will change it."

* * *

With Rupert and Angus rebuffing our plea to leave with us, we traveled on to Lally Broch to try our hand at convincing Ian and Jenny to come with us. The obstinate Scots wouldn't budge, excepting of course, young Ian, who thought it a great adventure. We all stood around the front courtyard, discussing the plans for departure.

"Can I Da?"

Jamie said, "I'll see to it as nay harm comes to the lad. I'll treat him as if he was my own flesh and bluid."

With arms crossed over her chest, Jenny scowled. "I'll be holdin' ye to it, Jamie. No a scratch on that lad's heid, ye hear?"

Young Ian turned to his parents. "I can go then?"

Jenny looked at her spouse. He shrugged and said, "It's op to ye, Jenny, ye're his mum."

She pushed closer to her son, and remarked, "I suppose so. But, see as ye write to me ever' month or so, mind."

Young Ian's eyes brightened at that comment, and he nodded readily in affirmation.

Casting her eyes at Murtagh, Jenny shook a finger at him. "I see as they convinced ye into goin' wi' them as weel."

He looked down at the gravel in the yard, sliding his foot back and forth. "I'm only followin' my destiny."

"Oh, destiny is it now? I count it as foolishness, but ye can just follow along like a mindless sheep, and good luck to ye. Pray ye dinna get yer fleece sheared off afore yer time."

She pivoted again, facing her son. "Ian, ye get yerself op to yer room and pack op yer belongin's. Seems yer uncle is in a hurry."

"Aye, we wanta make it to Beaully afore nightfall."

* * *

After several weeks on the ocean, I found myself reflecting on our future, that is, when I was wasn't wiping the brow of my seasick husband. On one day, when he wasn't looking quite so green, he approached me as I stood at the railing. I said to him, "I don't know what will happen to us once we reach America, but whatever befalls us, we'll face it together and somehow muddle through."

He held me tightly and kissed my forehead.

 _And while the war rages in Scotland, we'll survive, Jamie, Murtagh, Ian, me, and one other—one not yet born._

The ocean swells lapped at the prow of our ship, pushing us forward, a gentle preamble to an exciting new life.

 **The End**


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